


Cold Comfort

by Theoroark



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Meeting the In-Laws/Spiritual Counselor, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:27:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21902986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theoroark/pseuds/Theoroark
Summary: Baptiste heads to Nepal, to meet Genji's found family. Featuring Baptiste facing off against the formidable foes of impostor syndrome and sub-tropical temperatures.
Relationships: Jean-Baptiste Augustin/Genji Shimada, Jean-Baptiste Augustin/Lúcio Correia dos Santos/Genji Shimada
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Cold Comfort

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bloomingcnidarians](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloomingcnidarians/gifts).



> For Blooming, who is an incredible artist/friend/person. [Follow her](https://twitter.com/bloomingjellies) ([& her nsfw if you're over 18](https://twitter.com/bloomingnsfw)) if you aren't already!

When they visit Lúcio, Baptiste and Genji are on vacation. Lúcio doesn’t have any staff– he’s rich enough for it, but Baptiste sees his jaw tighten when some politician or executive ignores the waiter at their elbow. Lúcio doesn’t have staff, but he has a mother who raised him with a thorough understanding of what it means to be a host. He’s somehow more active in his home than outside of it, flitting from the laundry room to the kitchen to the den where Baptiste and Genji are practically manhandled into staying seated. When they’re in Rio, Baptiste and Genji eat grilled kebabs and fresh papaya and they walk Lúcio’s two mutts down warm, sunny streets. People wave to them and Lúcio gets waylaid by neighbors every three feet. It’s always summer and they can see the ocean. It reminds Baptiste of what he should be able to remember. 

When Baptiste goes with Genji to visit the Shambali monastery, on the other hand, it feels like work. He knows that’s no fault of Genji’s. Every monk greets him by name and offers him a blanket, so Baptiste knows Genji prepared them all, perhaps too thoroughly, for his visit. Genji is quick but Baptiste still spots him sliding some credits to a monk who hands him a plate of freshly-baked cookies. Genji loves him, Genji loves this place, Baptiste is happy to be here. 

But still. It’s so damn  _ cold _ . And it’s all new, whereas Lúcio’s world feels like a muffled echo of what Baptiste knew. It’s not a bad thing, but it’s work, navigating the monastery. 

And it’s fucking cold. 

It also probably feels like work, Baptiste thinks, because he’s meeting Zenyatta for the first time now. Genji seemed somewhat relieved when Baptiste & Lúcio politely but firmly declined his invitation to meet his brother. But Baptiste knows how important Zenyatta is to Genji. He lets go of the corners of his jacket, even though that lets in a draft, to let his arms dangle in what he hopes is a natural, presentable way. He really doesn’t want to fuck this up. 

“He’s a really nice guy,” Lúcio told him. “The kind who finds the good in everyone, you know? You’ll be fine.” Baptiste smiled and nodded and did not mention how terrified he was of anyone looking that closely at his soul. 

Genji takes his hand. Squeezes it. Baptiste tries not to flinch at the cold metal. 

“You’ll be fine,” Genji tells him. And when Baptiste smiles and nods, Genji leads him into the temple. 

Zenyatta is meditating when they find him. He is meditating while floating a couple feet in the air, engraved orbs suspended around him like a corona, the sleet-gray sky making him shine in contrast. Baptiste’s palms sweat. But Genji simply walks up, puts a hand on his knee, and says, “Master.”

Zenyatta’s parallel rows of eyes light up. The orbs drop and cluster around his neck, and he leans forward as he grabs Genji’s hand. “Genji! It is so wonderful to see you again!” He looks up. “Is that him?” he whispers, still very much loud enough for Baptiste to hear. 

Baptiste takes a step forward. “Tekhartha Zenyatta, it is an honor–“

“Are you cold?” Baptiste blinks. Zenyatta floats past Genji, towards him. “Genji told us you don’t like the cold. Do you need another blanket?”

Over Zenyatta’s shoulder, Genji drags a hand down his face. Baptiste smiles. “No, Tekhartha, I’ve been well taken care of.”

“Zenyatta. Please.” Zenyatta floats past him, towards the door. “Well. You need tea, at the least. People always need tea.”

Baptiste has actually had enough tea, especially enough drunk in a building complex designed by Omnics who don’t need to piss. But Zenyatta moves around the temple’s tiny kitchen with such verve that it seems like a sin to try to stop him. The tea he makes is quite good– Baptiste thinks he tastes hibiscus and he imagines that’s another preparation made in his honor. As he and Genji lower their cups, Zenyatta steeples his fingers. 

“Has he been more careful in battle?” Zenyatta asks Baptiste, angling his head towards Genji. “I have talked to him much about thinking more before he acts, and about valuing his life as much as it is worth. Has he been acting on any of my counsel?”

Baptiste thinks. Zenyatta’s eyes are trained on him and Genji’s stare is burning through his cheek. “I think he’s been more thoughtful,” Baptiste finally says. “And I think I’m always going to think he’s too reckless, because I love him and also because I’m the one who has to run after him and try to heal him.”

Genji makes a vague grumbling noise, but Baptiste thinks that’s the best he could have hoped for. Zenyatta seems some kind of satisfied with that. 

“Thank you for indulging my worry,” Zenyatta says. “Now. Please. I have been eagerly anticipating meeting you. Tell me about yourself.”

Baptiste is used to encountering that question in bars as a pickup line, and so he’s only ever responded with lies. He still could, he supposes, but Zenyatta is looking at him so earnestly over his teacup that he doesn’t really think he could. “I’m a medic,” he says. 

“I’ve heard,” Zenyatta says. He laughs. “I’m glad both of Genji’s boyfriends are healers. He always ends up needing that much, doesn’t he?” Genji moves his glare to Zenyatta. Zenyatta ignores him. 

“Where are you from?” Zenyatta asks him. 

The conversation moves on from there smoothly enough. Baptiste tells Zenyatta a fair bit about himself but never dips in the more uncomfortable parts of his past. He could flatter himself, but he’s quite sure it’s more due to Zenyatta’s skill as a conversationalist than his own ability to misdirect. 

When they’re leaving, though, Zenyatta takes Genji’s hand. And the movement reminds Baptiste, suddenly and horribly, of the statue he saw in London. He remembers everything Talon took from the Shambali. His omission suddenly is too heavy to bear. 

“There’s something else you should know,” Baptiste says. Genji looks up quickly. “When I was young, I joined Talon. I worked with them for a while.”

Baptiste hears Genji suck in a breath through the filters on his mask. Zenyatta cocks his head. “But you’re not with them now, yes?”

“No, but I know that–“

Zenyatta takes his hand and pats. “You’re here now,” he tells Baptiste. “That’s what I see. Only you see your ghosts.”

It’s acceptance but not kindness, so Baptiste feels he can accept it. He smiles and nods, and the three of them leave together. 

-

When they’re alone in Genji’s quarters that night Baptiste says, “You know, I’ve stayed in cold climates for extended periods of time before. Talon’s headquarters is in Rome. I’ve lived with cold before.”

“I’m sure you have,” Genji says. “And I’m sure you complained about it those times too.” When Baptiste dedicates himself to rifling through his pack instead of responding, Genji grins. “Still. I think my siblings here made it so you’ll never want to complain about it again.”

“I appreciate them being hospitable,” Baptiste says. “But I suppose none of them have been up here. Otherwise they wouldn’t have bothered.”

Genji rubs his neck and the two of them look down at the mattress on the cold wooden floor. It’s queen sized, because Genji is clearly attempting some kind of minimalist aesthetic in this tiny room. But it’s loaded down with piles of blankets and pillows. Baptiste thinks he even sees a pachimari plush somewhere in there.

“I think that might have been them too,” Genji murmurs, and Baptiste laughs. He kisses Genji’s forehead, and relishes the fact that his lips touch skin. He loves the moments when Genji takes off his mask for him.

“I’m glad you have people looking out for you here,” Baptiste says, and Genji hums and kisses him back. Baptiste changes into his pajamas faster than Genji does, and lies under a fraction of the blankets watching Genji fiddle with armor attachments and cybernetic pumps. As he does, the green light that was illuminating the room dims, until Baptiste is left with Genji’s silhouette and faint lantern light.

“Thank you for coming here,” Genji says, when he’s finally able to join Baptiste. He dips his head under Baptiste’s chin and Baptiste holds him close. “I know Master liked you.”

“I’m glad. I was nervous.”

“You shouldn’t have been. Everyone likes you.” Baptiste scoffs, and Genji kisses his neck. “So you have to take Lúcio and me to Haiti now, right?”

“I haven’t yet?”

Genji shoves him gently. “Come on now.” 

“I really wasn’t sure,” Baptiste tells him. “We’ve done missions in the Caribbean before.”

“Yes, so you really have no excuse.”

“I’d be happy to introduce you. It just slipped my mind.”

Genji huffs. “Given how big a deal you made about visiting Lúcio and me at our hometowns, I find that hard to believe.”

Baptiste tilts his head back. His eyes have adjusted to the darkness, and he can make out prayer flags strung up along the ceiling beam. “I guess home doesn’t feel that significant for me,” he says. “I’ve been on the run for so long. I haven’t stayed in one place for more than a month in years. I guess I don’t really have a home.”

There’s a rustle of many blankets as Genji props himself up on one elbow. “You have people you talk about in Haiti,” he points out. “And you built that clinic there. Isn’t that your home?”

“I’m Haitian,” Baptiste says slowly. “I want to help Haiti, protect it. But if Roseline and Esther and Lefort and those were to up and leave the island and never go back– wherever they ended up, that’d be my home.” He rolls over to face Genji, who’s watching him. “That goes for you and Lúcio too. Maybe that’s why I’ve never felt too motivated to take you two anywhere. My home is my people. And you two are my people now.”

Genji leans down and kisses him. He slides his hand along Baptiste’s waist and even though Baptiste is dead tired, Genji shifting his body so he’s pressing down on him makes Baptiste want to warm up in another way. Genji must be tired too though, because he just settles down next to him and runs his fingers through Baptiste’s hair. 

“I understand that,” Genji says softly. “And I’m honored.”

Baptiste smiles. “Good.”

“I still want to go to Port-de-Paix though.”

Baptiste sighs and pulls him close. “You’ll hate it,” he tells Genji. “It’s all sand and humidity.”

“You’ll take care of me,” Genji says. And Baptiste can’t deny it. Just kisses the top of his head and closes his eyes. They’re thousands of feet up and the wind is viciously whipping snow around outside. But the two of them are under a pile of blankets on a mass of pillows. The soft tubing on Genji’s stomach is pressing into Baptiste’s sweatshirt. The room smells like incense. It feels like home. 

**Author's Note:**

> I’m [@tacticalgrandma](https://twitter.com/tacticalgrandma) on twitter if you want to talk to me there!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and any comments or kudos would mean the world to me 💜


End file.
